Who Wants to Live Forever?
by Aeria Gloris
Summary: Part Two: Duncan's thoughts just after the hardest Quickening in his life *major spoiler for Endgames*.
1. Hardship

I just watched the movie Highlander: the Gathering, and the song right before the credits (you know, the one that goes "Who wants to live forever?") inspired this.  Anyway, I haven't watched Highlander in a long time before seeing that, so any characters might be somewhat OOC.  It's my first angst fic, so be kind! And if this has been done before, don't flame me.  If you do flame me, I will forward them to my rpg where they will be used to power up my character.

Disclaimer:  Highlander doesn't belong to CJ.

_Why are we here?  If life itself is so short, what is the purpose?  A flower lives only for a short time.  Its beauty is not seen before it wilts and dies away.  Wouldn't it be easier to make a difference if we could live forever?_

**2002__**

            Duncan MacLeod sat down on a cold gray rock, and rested his head in his hands.  A harsh wind ripped through the leaves over his head, blowing through his long coat.  He pulled the collar up around his neck and hunched down against the bitter wind.  The day was cold and dreary, reflecting perfectly the way Duncan felt inside.  In all of his 410 years, the Highlander had never felt so weary.  Sure, being Immortal had its advantages, but no one liked to talk about the downsides that far outweighed the perks.

            He was growing tired, but not from his age.  Imprisoned a body that would always be young; no, that would never make him weary.  He was tired of the Game, constant headhunting; always being on the lookout for other Immortals.  It had been the same way for centuries.  There was a Prize for the one at the end, but was it worth all the trials and suffering one had to go through to reach it?

            Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, and burrowed his head further into the coat.  There was an easy way out.  He could move to holy ground and never leave.  No Immortal would be able to engage him, and he wouldn't have to shed any more blood.  It had worked before.  But only for so long.  That was a downside to being Immortal.  He would never die on the holy ground, instead, live forever in a self-proclaimed exile.

            A single tear crawled down the Highlander's cheek.  _Why must it be like this? he thought.  __Why should I have to live my life for centuries, protecting the head that is causing me so much pain right now?  Everyone he had met, everyone he had killed, all of them were still fresh in his mind, as if it were just yesterday.  And the mortals that had died, their lives the length of a fly's compared to his.  He remembered them all.  And the pain never went away._

            Why should he have to endure so much?  A mortal has these pains too, but they die, and the pain no longer affects them.  But he would have to go on.  He, Duncan MacLeod, would have to persevere and strive to be the one at the end, no matter how much it hurt.  Who wants to live forever, anyway?


	2. Connor

I saw Endgames quite a few months ago actually...I just haven't been in the right frame of mind to write this.  I have to be really depressed, and today, well, I'm really depressed.  And if you haven't seen Endgames and don't want to be spoiled majorly, I suggest you hit the Back button now.

Disclaimer:  Highlander dun belong to the colonel.

            The last bolt of blue lightning crackled away.  The Quickening was over.  Duncan MacLeod sank to his knees; not because of the power, but because of what he had just done.  The pain inside him was enormous.  Another Immortal had died at his hands.  Hundreds of Quickenings, and this one hurt like no other.  It wasn't just any Immortal he had killed.

            Connor.... he had killed Connor.  His mentor.  His best friend.  Sure, Connor had wanted Duncan to kill him, but that did nothing to ease the suffering.  No matter how much Duncan protested, Connor had still quietly insisted that he be killed.  It had all become clear the moment Connor's sword was pinned behind his head, Duncan's just inches away from his neck.  That little trick that Connor had taught him so many years ago....a way to suppress your enemy...they couldn't escape from the hold unless the aggressor removed their own sword.  Which Duncan had done the second he realized how Connor had maneuvered him.  The katana fell out of Duncan's hand.

            _There can be only one..._

            That phrase echoed through the head of every Immortal.  That was the price of the Game.  Ruthless killing until only one Immortal remained.  Making friends was a hard thing to do.  Immortals stayed away from each other, unless they were to fight.  Knowing that a friend had died for a game...was even harder when friends killed each other.

            Inside, Duncan had always known that one day either he or Connor, or both of them would die.  He had both looked forward to and dreaded the day the two Highlanders would have to fight each other.  That day had come and gone.  And now there was one less Highlander.

            It hurt so much, knowing that he would have to go on without Connor with him.  In four hundred years you kinda get attached to a person.  Letting someone go was never easy, and Duncan had seen many more deaths than he should have.

            Letting go....Connor had sacrificed himself to give Duncan his power.  That sacrifice mustn't have been in vain, no matter hard it was for Duncan to keep going.

            He sat on the roof for several minutes.  Tears streamed down his face as his emotions ran wild.  Quietly, he gathered his thoughts and katana.  With one last look at where Connor had been minutes earlier, he turned and walked away.

            Who wants to live forever?


End file.
